


too much; not enough

by Nara



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Character's Name Spelled as Viktor, Depression, Gen, Introspection, References to Depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-22
Updated: 2019-07-22
Packaged: 2020-07-11 14:44:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19929775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nara/pseuds/Nara
Summary: They say, You're a little much for me; You're a liability...___Viktor is crumbling





	too much; not enough

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aceofjapan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aceofjapan/gifts).



> This is inspired by this (https://nihideadraws.tumblr.com/post/186196978688/in-pieces-vi-pen-on-paper-0719-the-truth-is) lovely piece by Ace.
> 
> Their A03 is @aceofjapan.
> 
> Please check them out!
> 
> (I do not know how to do concise links in the notes.)

Viktor, to the public, was a porcelain doll. Sitting pretty on a shelf, for them to look at and admire his beauty and the artistry it took to make him who he was. And if,  _ when _ , he finally cracked, paint chipping and color fading from his cheeks due to exposure, he would be discarded. 

He couldn't let that happen.

But Viktor - the real Viktor - was more like sand. He was everywhere all at once, getting into cracks and crevices. Fun and welcome when you went to the beach, but an annoyance when you find him later in your shoes. Omnipresent yet somehow still fragile - he could be washed away with ease.

Viktor couldn't let that happen either. 

Viktor could feel himself fading. 

He imagined himself as both the doll and the sand...watching as the porcelain cracked and the sand leaked out, spilling onto the floor, filling the room with more sand than could even fit in such a small doll. It was overwhelming,  _ he _ was overwhelming. When he broke out of the pretty shell that everyone wanted him to be...well, then no one wanted him.

Viktor was used to playing a role. He smiled and winked and waved. He was the five time world figure skating champion, he was the pride of Russia, he was the one to beat, he was  _ Viktor Nikiforov _ .

He was on a pedestal where it was so, so far to fall.

Viktor was alone.

He thinks he might have had friends once. He can’t say he’s paid enough attention to Georgi in recent years for them to have maintained any relationship they might have had as young rinkmates. And Mila and Yuri were just kids. 

There was Christophe...but even he was just the type of friend you hung out with at competitions. They got into trouble together but that was part of the show. Viktor couldn’t call Chris after a long night of training to vent about his coach, or to cry about boys...or the lack thereof. Chris had his own life, and Viktor had his.

It wasn’t much of a life.

Skate, eat, walk Makkachin, sleep. Skate, win. Press conference. Smile. Smile. Smile.

Viktor was tired.

Viktor stared unblinkingly at the ceiling, thinking, Makkachin snoring lightly at his side. Who was Viktor Nikiforov? Viktor Nikiforov the skater was a winner, a model, Picture Perfect. But Viktor? Did he even exist?

Viktor curled into Makkachin, pressing his face into her fur. He felt tears prick at the corner of his eyes and tried so hard to keep them from falling that the pressure burst forth from his chest and he let out a choked sob. Clutching his dog, Viktor cried.

_Viktor Nikiforov_ didn’t cry. But apparently Viktor did.

Viktor once saw a painting in a museum. A portrait of a man, face tilted to the side, eyes cast downward. His body was breaking, crumbling into pieces, showing the nothingness that lay beyond.

It was just a painting. Viktor thought it was a mirror.

Maybe he was being dramatic.

Viktor once heard a song on the radio.

_ “ _ _ They say, You're a little much for me / You're a liability / You're a little much for me / So they pull back, make other plans / I understand, I'm a liability / Get you wild, make you leave / I'm a little much for / E-a-na-na-na, everyone. / The truth is I am a toy that people enjoy / 'Til all of the tricks don't work anymore / And then they are bored of me / I know that it's exciting / Running through the night, but / Every perfect summer's / Eating me alive until you're gone / Better on my own / … /” _

He almost choreographed a skate to it. He wondered if it would be a little too on the nose.

He wondered if anyone would even understand what he meant.

Viktor choreographed  _ Agape _ and  _ Eros _ after a night that sparked  _ something _ . A pretty, drunk, mess of a boy fell into his lap and danced away the darkness. A boy that saw Viktor Nikiforov, but walked away from him. A boy that talked to Viktor.

Viktor didn’t dare call it love, could barely call it hope. But he felt the cracking stop, if only for a moment.

Viktor flew to Japan on a whim. A carefully thought out whim, if that wasn’t an oxymoron.

When he arrived he saw nothing of the boy who talked to Viktor. He didn’t even see the boy who walked away from Viktor Nikiforov. He only saw someone who put him on that selfsame pedestal.

And he was Viktor Nikiforov once more.

Coach, skate. Smile. Smile. Smile. Eat, play with Makkachin, and try, try, try to find what it was he had come here looking for. If he couldn’t, if there really was nothing here...he’d finish out the year as a coach and then...he didn’t know.

He watched the sand seep through the cracks of the doll and did nothing to stop it. He was a bit petty, a bit cruel, and certainly over-the-top. But that didn’t chase the boy away...it brought him closer. The boy was stubborn, the boy was sassy, and the boy was shy. But Viktor was bringing him out of his shell.

The boy was allowing Viktor to come out of his as well.

_ “What do you want me to be to you? A father figure? A brother? A friend? Your boyfriend…?” _

_ “No! Just stay as the person you are now! Just be Viktor!” _

With that Viktor shattered.

With that Viktor Nikiforov broke. He collected the shattered pieces to make Just Viktor.

The boy -  _ Yuuri  _ \- helped put him back together.

There’s a Japanese art called Kintsugi, where broken pottery is repaired with gold. It makes the points of breakage stand out, the scars visible, but they’re beautiful.

With Yuuri, Viktor doesn’t need to hide where he’s broken, because Yuuri understands. Yuuri is a little bit broken too.

Yuuri was never a doll on a shelf, or annoying grains of sand stuck in someone’s shoe. Yuuri was something else, but he, too, has his points of breakage that are repaired with gold. And Viktor understands.

Viktor still fears that as Viktor Nikiforov he is Not Enough, and as Just Viktor he is Too Much. He fears the other way around.

But finding Life and Love changes a person.

He may be broken. He may be crumbling. But he knows he can pull himself back together, with a little help.

And whether he’s Too Much or Not Enough, more often, he’s Just Right.

And Viktor is okay.


End file.
